


Talisman

by thievesguilding



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Elvhen, Gen, The Dales
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2018-03-06 07:02:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3125339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thievesguilding/pseuds/thievesguilding
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Lindiranae was the last to hold the blade Evanura. With her fell the Dales; the sword was lost."</p><p>Caught between the weight of ancient history and the growing boldness of the Chantry, Lindiranae fights desperately to hold onto what scraps her people have reclaimed and call home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Talisman

The day she was given Evanura, she was also named a High Guardian of the Dales, but it was the sword rather than the title that had captured her imagination when she was a child. It had been forged by her grandmother's grandmother, given by the great smith Tanaleth to Mathalin, the first of the Emerald Knights, and since then none of her family had held its hilt. Why should they? They were smiths, like Tanaleth; they wore the vallaslin of June, and had no fewer than three of His High Keepers in their line. But Lindiranae was different, more at home in the trees of the Graves than her mother's forge, and with the bow of Andruil across her brow instead of June's tools. Where her parents crafted tools and weapons of breathtaking beauty, masterpieces of grace married to functionality, Lindiranae's hands had been shaped for their use.

None of her family had come to the city for her ceremony; the crowd that clustered together against the cold wind was small, and none of them looked familiar. Her heart sank, but she was hardly surprised; Mamae had never forgiven her for forsaking the smith's trade and turning her back on the family's legacy, and what Mamae did, the rest of Lindiranae's siblings did as well. Fen'Harel take them, then; if they wouldn't be proud of her, she could be proud enough for them all.

She nearly missed the priestess' benediction, and her tongue stumbled over the unfamiliar elven of the scripted reply in a passable approximation of the correct accent. Her hands felt familiar to Evanura's weight in spite of having never held the sword before; her eyes drank in the blade, the silver-blue sheen of the metal and the supple leather of the grip, the intricate smith's mark that proclaimed it the work of High Keeper Tanaleth. And she couldn't keep from grinning as she lifted it high into the air, channeling what little magic she could muster through the blade to shine keenly along its edges.

There would be further ceremonies later, a fast and a journey deep into the Graves, but that would come later. For now, she and the handful of recently-named knights could have their day, and Lindiranae could bask in the radiance of her new command.

She had worn the marks of Andruil for six years now; four of those had been spent in the service of the Dales, one of the Emerald Knights' youngest recruits since Mathalin's protégé Neriah, and all of them spent fighting tooth and nail for the recognition of the Dales' warriors as one of their peers. Smiths were well-respected, as were all craftsmen, but Lindiranae had not been raised to the blade as they had; her hands had trained with hammer and anvil, not bow and arrow, and everything she had taught herself had needed to be unlearned and relearned again, like a bone being reset. As painful and wrenching as it had been, though, she could see how it had shaped her into the soldier-- the commander-- she now was. She couldn't fight back the undignified and crooked grin that barely hid beneath her helm's mouthguard.

"So I suppose I owe you a drink, lethallan." Sulahn, one of her grove's recruits and now her lieutenant, elbowed her teasingly. "I always thought I'd get promoted before you."

Lindiranae raised an eyebrow. "That's _Captain_ Lethallan to you," she said archly, "and you're welcome to pay up on that bet whenever you like."

Sulahn rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Come on, let's see it," he said, nodding to her sword.

Lindiranae unsheathed the blade with a gentle hand and held it up to catch the fading sunlight. "Just look at the craftsmanship," she said appreciatively. It was a beautiful sword.

Sulahn shrugged. "Mine's bigger."

"Yours is a by-the-gods _polearm_!" She glanced around sheepishly, but it seemed few of the celebrants had heard her admittedly unprofessional tone. "Besides, it's not about who's is bigger. It's how you use it. Isn't that what you kept telling Calassiel?" His cheeks and ears went bright red, and Lindiranae laughed merrily. "How is she, anyway?"

"Going to Dirthavaren to visit her aunt for the winter." He shrugged. "She had her brothers tell me. Three days after she left."

She reached over and squeezed his shoulder. "She can't stay mad forever, ma falon. Give her time."

Sulahn laughed a little bitterly. "Have you met Calassiel?" He looked over to where the fresh knights were breaking open the casks of brandy. "Would you like a drink, Captain Lethallan?"

Lindiranae grinned broadly, whistled sharply for Revasanni, and followed him across the square.

* * *

 

The pilgrimage into the Graves took four days, during which Lindiranae spent little time talking and much time watching. This was her first command, but her mentor during training had been Briathos himself. Watch your soldiers, he told her; they will tell you more that way than if you ask them.

Her company was small, seven in all not counting herself and Sulahn. Three archers, three swordsmen, and a mage; Oranni, Calassan, and Ghilanara; Fenrian, Ilrith, and Elaeril; and Briya Taerion, the daughter of one of the High Keepers of Dirthamen. Besides herself and Briya, all of the others had been raised warriors, most of them with at least one parent or aunt or uncle in the knights. In truth, it was intimidating; what am I doing, Lindiranae caught herself wondering, I'm a smith, not a warrior. But of the nine of them, only she and Sulahn had bonded with their wolves and planted their trees, and between them, it was Lindiranae who had been chosen to lead. Revasanni's ears were warm and soft under her fingertips, and Evanura's weight a comfort at her side.

She could do this.

So she watched. Oranni and Fenrian had developed a rivalry during training, and it seemed only to have intensified with their elevation to knighthood; Calassan, Ghilanara, and Ilrith were taking bets on who would start the first fistfight when they thought Lindiranae wasn't paying attention. Elaeril and Briya were quiet, showing little concern for the rest of the company save their capabilities in a battle, though with Briya at least she was half-certain it was more from her perceived outsider status than genuine indifference.

It would change once they reached their grove, of course. Nobody planted their own gravetree and left it unchanged.

The light trickled through the trees like water, tinged green and gold by the translucent leaves, and as they snaked deeper into the forest the good-natured bickering and joking stilled into a reverent hush. Even the calls of birds and brontos was too little to break the spell of the trees; Lindiranae knelt on the moss and scratched Revasanni's thick ruff, looking around.

"This is as far as we go together," she said quietly, unwilling or unable to sever the stillness of the moment. "Lieutenant Sulahn and I will remain here; the rest of you, take shovels and go in pairs into the trees. Find saplings, young and supple, and bring them here. Do not return until both of you have your trees." She stood again. "Briya, I need to discuss something with you before you leave to look."

The other six took the shovels that Lindiranae provided, and Briya, trying to hide the apprehension in her bright eyes, followed Lindiranae a few paces off.

"I would like you to perform the ritual to bind the knights to the trees, if you feel comfortable with that." She reached down and gently pushed Revasanni away from her leg. "Neither Sulahn nor I is strong enough with our magic to do it on our own, but your training evaluation shows a great deal of subtlety and power in your craft."

Briya blinked. "Alright, Captain. What do I need to do?"

"You and I will go and find a tree, and I'll show you."

She and Briya passed under Lindiranae's own tree while they searched; it had grown  tall and strong in four years, its crown of leaves towering well over her head, and when she pressed her palm to the smooth bark Lindiranae could feel the coursing of its sap in time with her own heartbeat. It was as much a part of her as her own blood; to be near it again was like being reunited with a severed limb.

Fittingly, it was Briya who saw the sapling first, and Lindiranae helped her carry it back to the camp once it was safely out of the ground. Sulahn quirked up an eyebrow at her. "We need the tools," she  said quietly, and without a word he handed her a small leather bundle. "Keep the others here until we return." She signaled for the great wolf at her side to sit, and led Briya back to her own tree.

The ritual to bind knight to branch was simple but powerful; Lindiranae could guide her soldier through it easily enough, but could never have done it herself. Once the sapling was in the ground, she handed Briya a small stone bowl and a knife, told her to fill it with her blood. The mage, in spite of the apprehensive look on her face, did as she was told before cutting carefully into the tree to fill it the rest of the way with sap. The mixture's binding took a few minutes; Briya drank half, and poured the rest on the dirt at the sapling's roots. The magic would grow with the tree, drawing on the power of the forest around them and weaving a web of intertwining strands until the life of elf and plant were one and the same. Briya and the others would be bound to the Dales in blood and spirit, just as every Emerald Knight before them had been, and when they fell, they would return.

But for now, they had more work to do. She left Briya kneeling beside her sapling while she went to retrieve Sulahn and the others.


End file.
